


Castiel, In Loco Parentis

by Carrieosity



Series: Tumblr Bunnies and Ficlets - Supernatural [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairies, Fluff, Librarian Castiel (Supernatural), Libraries, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 20:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18373580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrieosity/pseuds/Carrieosity
Summary: Some days at Castiel's library are harder than others.





	Castiel, In Loco Parentis

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an actual event at my own library, to me personally. (Though with less magic involvement.)
> 
> Prompt from [saltnhalo](http://saltnhalo.tumblr.com): "Fantasy AU with librarian Cas."

“Well, of course, they’re  _safe_ here, at least for the moment. That’s not really the point, is it?” Castiel pulled the phone away from his ear briefly, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. The slight headache he’d been courting all afternoon had bloomed into something that pounded and throbbed behind his eyes, and he desperately wanted to scream out his frustrations.

Screaming in a library, however, was certainly against the rules. As department head, Castiel was well aware of the rules.

“Mr. Novak, we are doing our best in this situation,” the tight-voiced woman was saying on the other end of the phone line. She sounded disgruntled, as though his stubborn refusal to quietly accept responsibility for this madness was an unreasonable imposition on her, personally. “It’s the unfortunate reality that cases like these are fairly common, and our resources are stretched—”

“Do you think I don’t know about stretched resources?” Castiel interrupted, tired of being courteous. “I work in a public library. Our budget goes on the government chopping block so often that I’ve been on a first-name basis with every city administrator for the last twelve years. People I meet at parties begin conversations by asking me to defend the relevance of my vocation as a worthy use of their tax dollars. Don’t patronize me.”

The woman huffed. “There’s no need for hostility, Mr. Novak,” she said. “I’m simply trying to help.”

Castiel gritted his teeth. He glanced over his shoulder toward the children’s room and…the source of his headache.

In his ear, the woman was blathering on about legal precautions and protocol, none of which Castiel gave two simmering shits about just then. “Just call as soon as you can tell us anything more,” he snapped, cutting her off once more before hanging up. He didn’t quite slam the receiver into the cradle, but he came close enough that the librarian sitting nearby raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just as helpful as before, I take it?” she drawled, the corners of her lips quirking upward dryly. “You actually turned rude, there. I’m impressed.”

Grimacing, Castiel opened his mouth to defend his uncharacteristic show of temper, but he was cut short by a crashing noise, followed immediately by an ear-splitting screech. Whirling around with wide eyes, Castiel saw bright lights zipping along the top of the bookshelves that bordered the Early Learning Play Zone.

“Oh, would you look at that?” his fellow librarian said brightly. “Someone needs help over at the copy machine. I’ll just pop over there and assist.” Before Castiel could protest, she threw him a wink and vanished into thin air.

_Dammit, Meg,_  he thought to himself, glaring at the chair where she’d been sitting. The ghost was good at her job, without question, and her service had actually improved since the unfortunate incident with the bookmobile that had ended her life, if not her career. Unfortunately, she definitely tended to take advantage of her noncorporeal nature when it came to avoiding unpleasant tasks.

Another crash, this time slightly louder, had him sighing. Running a hand through his already disheveled hair, Castiel closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer for strength before striding toward the play area. “Okay, guys,” he said, “What’s—”

“Zephyr knocked over my tower!” piped a tiny voice directly into his ear. Castiel jerked backward in surprise, barely managing to avoid stumbling over a pile of books strewn over the floor. He spun to locate the owner of the voice, but the tiny pink blur was already flitting over his shoulder toward a slightly smaller ball of lavender brilliance.

“Well, I don’t think we need to be making towers of the books, anyway,” Castiel chided, stooping to gather up the mess. “Which one of you is Zephyr, again?”

A tiny yellow glow popped up from behind the toy kitchen, making a whirring noise that Castiel supposed was a laugh. There was a sudden flashing arc of pink, and then the siblings were zooming about the area, accompanied by a cacophony of angry-sounding buzzes, chirps, and chitters.

“Guys, stop! Stop!” Castiel tried to protest, though they were obviously not listening, and he wasn’t even certain whether the youngest of the group spoke anything other than Fae. This was a complete fiasco, and the fact that nobody seemed willing or able to assist him with it was just the icing on the (fairy) cake.

Dumping the stack of picture books onto a nearby table, Castiel dropped onto a stool with a discouraged huff. He felt a small nudge against his knee and turned his head to gaze balefully at the oldest of the fairy siblings. Still not even old enough to be in school, by Castiel’s estimation, she was at least mature enough to hold a physical form for more than the blink of an eye. “I’m hungry,” she said, twirling a finger in her silvery curls.

“I’m afraid the pretzels I gave you were the only food we had here,” Castiel muttered. Noting the crumbs trampled into the carpet, he was reminded of why eating was generally against library policy anyway. “Maybe if we try again to remember your phone number, your mommy can bring you some food?”

“I think,” the little fairy said, balancing on one foot and then the other, “maybe it was two-one-one.”

“That’s not enough numbers,” Castiel reminded the child, as he had the first handful of times they’d done this dance. He’d done his level best with the situation, from the moment he’d realized that the five fairy youths dismantling the Youth Services Department were there without the benefit of any adult supervision at all. As far as he could ascertain, no grown-up was even aware, let alone approving, that the children had decided to venture out of their home alone and make their way through bustling city streets to the library.

They didn’t know their telephone number. They couldn’t give him their address. They couldn’t even agree on their mother’s or father’s name—he was working under the assumption that they all shared a single set of parents, though even that wasn’t certain, he supposed. In a fit of inspiration, he’d tried using the street view function of an internet mapping tool to “drive” around town, hoping they’d at least recognize their neighborhood, but the house that caused them to cry out happily was miles away and had an unlisted phone number linked to its address.

The yellow and pink balls of light were hovering in front of him now. “I want to go home now,” one said plaintively.

“Me, too,” Castiel confessed honestly. He’d overstayed his planned departure time by almost two hours, waiting to hear any news from Social Services, who were continuing to search for answers about who should be watching the group. His own stomach was growling, and his feet ached almost as much as his head did from the long day.

“Me, three,” said a familiar voice from behind him, and Castiel could have cried. “What’s all this? Somebody having a party and didn’t invite me?” A warm hand gripped Castiel’s shoulder, and then his husband was sliding onto the stool beside him, smiling gently.

“Dean, you didn’t have to come down here,” Castiel said, though he immediately flopped against Dean’s side in a boneless heap. “I’m sure it’ll all be worked out soon. You’re probably just as tired as I am.”

“Nah, I’m peachy,” Dean said cheerfully, the low growl of his voice vibrating against Castiel’s temple where it pressed against Dean’s collarbone. “‘Sides, how could I not come check this out? Charlie was swinging by the bar to say hey when she got the text about all this, and when she said it was you and a bunch of feral rugrats, I had to see it for myself, so I tagged along.”

Castiel couldn’t help it; he snorted a laugh. “Feral fairies. Hah. Oh, gods, I’m so tired.” Dean’s answering chuckle bounced his head a little, but he couldn’t have cared less.

“Hey there, Cas.” Dr. Charlie Bradbury looked and sounded far too young for her role as the Coordinator of Social Services for Extramundane Youth, but only those who believed the form she wore was her true one were actually fooled. “Heard you needed some backup? Wow, good thing I brought some extra booster seats with me.” Reaching deep into the colorful tote bag that hung from her shoulder, Charlie extracted a handful of wrapped candies. “Hey, kids! Who likes chocolate?”

Castiel stared, bewildered, as the fairy children swarmed over to Charlie, squealing and chittering in joy. “She’s actually giving them sugar,” he muttered. “Is she insane?”

“Probably, but it seems to work for her,” Dean said with a shrug. “Anyway, she can take it from here, so let’s get you home. I’ve had some stew going in the slow cooker, so you don’t even have to think.”

Castiel stood, twisting from side to side and feeling small pops in his neck and back. “Mmm, sounds perfect. Did you drive here? Do we need to go get your car?”

Dean shook his head as he rose to his feet. “Don’t worry about it. I rode in with Sam today. I’m good to go along with you, babe.”

Grinning, Castiel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his freckled cheekbone. “Meg,” he called out, knowing she was lurking somewhere close by. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Then he lifted his hand and traced the sigil in the air that would open the portal to his home. Through the magical doorway wafted the tantalizing scents of beef and vegetables, and his mouth watered. “Bye, Charlie. They’re all yours,” he said, before taking Dean’s hand and pulling him through the doorway behind him.


End file.
